


one sucky vampire, ah ah ah

by hawksonfire



Category: Marvel
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Blood, Blood Drinking, Clint is a sucky vampire, Clint was an Idiot Human, Disaster Baby Vampire Clint Barton, Idiots in Love, M/M, Now he's an Idiot Vampire, Surprise Vampire, Vampire Clint Barton, this has no plot whatsoever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:41:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23724757
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: Bucky pats him on the hand gently. “I’m sure you won’t let a little thing like needing blood to survive stop you from drinking coffee.”Clint nods. “You’re right. I won’t. I’m gonna be the only vampire who prefers coffee over blood.” He pauses. “Does this make me a sucky vampire?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Clint Barton
Comments: 12
Kudos: 141





	one sucky vampire, ah ah ah

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SinceriouslyAmellPadalecki/gifts).



> I hope you enjoy, y'all!! Thanks to the Winterhawk Bingo Discord for helping me come up with Disaster Baby Vampire Clint Barton!

Clint wakes up to Tony shouting. “Vampires aren’t real!” 

“They are,” objects Steve. “And Clint is one.”

“Wait, _what_?” Clint blurts, bolting upright. “Since when am I a vampire? Pretty sure I would have noticed a major life change like that.” Someone squeezes his hand gently and Clint looks over to see Bucky sitting beside him, face tight and pale. 

“JARVIS sounded the alarm last night,” Bucky says quietly. “Said he couldn’t detect a heartbeat from your quarters but you hadn’t left.”

“Pretty sure RoboCop here broke a few doors getting to you,” Tony grumbles. 

Shifting on the hospital bed, Clint tightens his grip on Bucky’s hand. “I don’t remember anything weird,” he says. “Last thing I got is drinking some coffee and going to bed.”

“My sensors have Clint settling into sleep patterns at 10:37 pm,” JARVIS interjects. “I was unable to detect a heartbeat at 2:29 am the next morning.”

“So that gives us a four-hour window,” Steve says thoughtfully. “Did anyone go in or out of the Tower during that time, J?”

“Not that my sensors detected, Captain,” JARVIS says apologetically. “From what you have told me of vampires, it seems unlikely that I would have been able to detect them in any case. Perhaps it was something Clint consumed?”

“J, get a bot to grab the coffee Clint drank before he went to bed,” Tony orders. “I’ll run some tests.”

“What am I supposed to do?” Clint whines.

“You stay put,” Tony says, pointing a finger at him. “I have tests to run on you too.”

“Fine, but can I get something to eat first? I’m starving,” Clint says, rubbing at his stomach. Steve and Tony immediately lean away from him, and Bucky’s grip tightens on his hand. “What’d I say?” Clint asks, looking around. Then it hits him. “Oh. Right. Don’t worry guys, I’m not feeling any urge to suck your blood. Well, no more than normal, anyway.” 

“Well, that’s more than I ever needed to know about you, Barton,” Tony remarks. “I think I’m gonna stay over here anyway.”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky says gently. Clint turns to look at him, frowning at the look on Bucky’s face. “You’ve got a little fangs situation going on.” He gestures to Clint’s mouth.

Clint’s hand flies up to his mouth, exploring until he pricks his finger on something sharp. “Mirror,” he demands, holding out a hand. No one moves. Clint blinks. “Aw, reflection, no,” he complains. “Seriously? I can’t even look in the mirror anymore? So far this vampire thing sucks.” Tony snorts and opens his mouth, but Clint cuts him off. “Don’t.”

“Spoilsport,” Tony grumbles. 

“I know of a way to make you human again,” Steve offers.

“Share,” Clint demands. “Right now. Immediately.”

“We just have to find the vampire who turned you,” Steve explains. “They can reverse the process and then you’ll be human again.”

“Great! Let’s do that!” Clint points at Steve. “Fast, please.”

Steve winces. “I’d love to, it’s just...”

“Just what? Spit it out!”

“It’s just that we have no idea who turned Clint, and even if we did, the chances of us finding them are... low, to say the least,” Steve says apologetically.

“So... what?” Clint says, lifting an eyebrow. “I’m stuck like this?”

“Sweetheart,” Bucky mutters from beside him. Clint looks over to see Bucky’s face white with pain. “You’re squeezing a little hard.” Clint looks down to see his hand still clutching Bucky’s in a grip that clearly isn’t comfortable. 

“Sorry,” Clint says, releasing him. He opens his mouth to say something else but before he can the door swings open and a small robot rolls in, holding Clint’s coffeepot in its claws. “I’m gonna be wanting that back, Stark,” he threatens as the robot passes it over to Tony.

“Not if it made you into a bloodsucking vampire, you won’t,” Tony retorts. Muttering to himself, he walks out of the room, fiddling with the coffeepot. The little robot beeps at Clint and rolls after him.

“I’m not getting that coffeepot back, am I?” Clint says, breaking the tense silence filling the room. 

“Probably not,” Steve says apologetically.

“So, Steve, you’re the resident vampire expert,” Clint says, clapping his hands, “What do I need to know?”

“Well, there’s the mirror thing,” Steve says. “No reflections.”

“Wait, wait, hang on,” Clint says, holding up a hand and squeezing his eyes shut. “I read something about this. Mirrors used to be backed with silver nitrate, which was also used in photography, and that’s why vampires couldn’t see their reflection and didn’t appear in pictures. So all we gotta do is find a mirror that doesn’t have a silver nitrate backing!” He opens his eyes to find both Bucky and Steve staring at him incredulously. “What?” He shrugs. “I read.”

“I’ll get right on that, Clint,” JARVIS says, amusement clear in his voice.

“Okay,” Steve says slowly, exchanging a glance with Bucky. “There’s also garlic. As in, you can’t have any. Sunlight too - well, UV rays specifically. Tony’s already retro-fitted the Tower with special windows that stop the UV rays from getting in, so you’re good to walk around inside.”

“Are you telling me there’s no way for me to go outside during the day?” Clint asks, pouting. “But I was looking forward to going to the beach with Bucky.”

“You just wanted to ogle me in a swimsuit,” Bucky teases. 

“Damn, you caught me,” Clint mutters, smirking.

“Well, Dracula always said that drinking my blood would give him the ability to walk in the daylight,” Steve says absently. Clint stares at him. Steve blinks. “Clint, no,” he says, backing towards the door. 

“Clint, yes,” Clint objects, holding back a grin at the look on Steve’s face. “C’mon Steve, just a little taste. You won’t even feel it. Bucky, hold him down. Just a little. Please? Steve, where you going? Steve? Steve!” 

Steve bolts out the door, leaving a cloud of dust behind him and Clint falls back onto his bed, cackling. “You weren’t really gonna... y’know,” Bucky says quietly.

Clint raises an eyebrow. “What? Eat him? Nah. Well, not unless he said yes. Consent is sexy. Besides, I don’t even know if I _can_ bite someone without killing them, and I kinda wanna be able to do that. Killing someone takes all the fun out of it.”

“You say this like you’ve done it before,” Bucky says, raising an eyebrow. 

“What? Biting someone or killing someone with my bite?” Clint asks.

Bucky blinks. “Yes?”

Clint shrugs. “Biting someone, yes. Killing someone with that bite, no. Well, possibly? They died the next day, but I don’t think it had anything to do with me. Probably.”

“How were you a disaster vampire before you even became a vampire?” Bucky asks, shaking his head.

“Guess it was meant to be,” Clint shrugs. “Seriously though, can I please get something to eat? I’m hungry, and it’s starting to get bad enough that I’m seriously considering chasing after Steve.”

“I’ve taken the liberty of having some blood bags brought over from the medical suite,” JARVIS interjects. “I wasn’t sure as to your tastes, so there’s at least one bag of each blood type.”

“Alright then,” Clint says, cracking his knuckles. “Who’s for lunch, J?”

Bucky snorts beside him. “You’re taking this awfully well,” he observes.

Clint shrugs. “Not much choice there,” he says. “Can’t fix it until we find whoever changed me, and since we might never find them, I figure I should probably start adjusting to this now, right?”

“God, I love you,” Bucky breathes, and then before Clint can blink, Bucky’s lips are on his, stealing whatever Clint was going to say right out of his mouth. Abruptly, Bucky hisses and pulls back, touching his lip with one hand. His eyes widen and he looks at Clint, but Clint’s attention is completely, one hundred percent focused on Bucky’s lip and the bead of blood welling up on it. “Sweetheart-” Bucky starts, but Clint moves faster than he knew he could, swinging himself onto Bucky’s lap and pinning Bucky’s wrists behind him with one hand while he examines the small cut.

Bucky is still and silent beneath him, and the small part of Clint’s brain that is always attuned to Bucky - his words, his actions, his movements - is pinging a warning at the rest of Clint’s brain, not that the warning is being noticed. “I want to kiss you until you’re bloody,” Clint murmurs. He wipes his thumb over the cut on Bucky’s lip, smearing the blood across his finger.

“I might be okay with that,” Bucky says breathlessly. Clint sticks his finger into his mouth, lifting his eyes to meet Bucky’s and finding the other man’s to be completely blown out. Carefully, Clint leans forward and licks the rest of the blood off Bucky’s mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to the split in Bucky’s lip once he’s done.

“Sweet talker,” Clint accuses. It takes more effort than he’ll ever admit to for him to swing himself off Bucky’s lap and back into the bed, but he manages. 

“I only speak the truth,” Bucky breathes, metal arm whirring gently. The door swings open again and the same ‘bot from before rolls in, this time holding several blood bags in its - claws? Hands? Whatever.

“Soup’s on,” Clint says. Bucky snorts. The little ‘bot rolls over to Clint and beeps at him as it holds the bags up. “Thanks, sugar,” Clint winks. The ‘bot trills at him and rolls away, bumping into the doorframe as it exits.

“Flirt,” Bucky accuses. 

Clint shoots finger guns at him, snickering as he lays out the blood bags. “Any idea on how much of this stuff I’m supposed to have, J?” He asks.

“I’m afraid I was unable to determine the appropriate amount for you to consume,” JARVIS says apologetically. 

“Just drink as much as you can,” Bucky says. “If you can’t finish it all, then-”

“Midnight snack!” interrupts Clint, grinning.

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Sure. If you can’t drink it all, then midnight snack, and if you finish it all and want more, we can get you more.”

“Sounds good to me,” Clint says cheerily. “Here goes nothing!” Before he can overthink it, he snatches up a bag, rips the edge open with his fangs and starts drinking. Before he knows what happened, there are four empty bags in front of him and he’s feeling pleasantly full.

“Well?” Bucky asks him, eyes wide. 

Clint smacks his lips thoughtfully. He shrugs. “Nothing to write home about. Weird aftertaste, though.”

Bucky snorts, shaking his head. “Only you could drink four pints of human blood and only comment on the aftertaste.”

“I still like coffee better,” Clint mutters, pouting. Suddenly, his eyes widen and he latches onto Bucky’s hand tightly. “Bucky. Bucky. What if I can’t have coffee anymore?”

Bucky pats him on the hand gently. “I’m sure you won’t let a little thing like needing blood to survive stop you from drinking coffee.”

Clint nods. “You’re right. I won’t. I’m gonna be the only vampire who prefers coffee over blood.” He pauses. “Does this make me a sucky vampire?”

* * *

It starts with Tony. Well, technically it started with Bucky, but that was barely a drop so Clint isn’t counting it. Clint’s been cleared from medical for a couple days at this point, so he figures he’ll head down to Tony’s lab to see if he’s finished working on those new arrow designs. “Yo, Tones! You in here?”

There’s a flash and a bang, and the sound of Tony cursing up a storm reaches Clint’s ears. He follows it around a few corners and various piles of machinery until he finds Tony muttering to himself and clutching his arm angrily. “Damn those tiny shards of metal!”

“What’d you-” Clint’s nostrils flare as the scent of blood hits them and his eyes zero in on the blood welling up between Tony’s fingers. 

“Hey, Barton?” Tony asks, his voice sounding like it’s coming from underwater. “You’re not gonna, like, eat me or anything right?”

“Depends,” Clint murmurs, cocking his head. 

“On?”

Clint grins. “How fast you can run.” Tony squeaks and bolts so fast Clint can practically see the dust cloud he leaves behind. Now that the immediate source of blood is gone, Clint finds it far easier to pull himself out of the mindset that sees Tony as ‘prey’ instead of as a friend. “Just for the record, Jarvis,” Clint says, crouching next to Tony’s discarded tools, “I was joking.”

“I’m sure,” the AI says dryly. A spot of colour catches Clint’s attention, drawing his gaze to a small patch of blood on one of Tony’s tools. 

Before he can think about it too much, Clint runs his thumb over the blood and sticks it in his mouth. He hums thoughtfully. “Well,” he says, standing up and putting the tool back on the desk, “At least now I can say I know what Tony Stark tastes like.”

*

Eventually, Tony stops flinching whenever Clint comes into the room. Probably doesn’t help that Clint grins and flashes his fangs whenever he sees Tony. Or, he does until Steve corners him one day and gives him a ‘stern talking-to’. After escaping Steve, Clint makes his way into the kitchen and finds nearly everyone there. The only one missing is Thor, but that’s to be expected as he’s dealing with some Asgard thing.

“So, who wants to donate their blood to a worthy cause?” Clint says brightly, pushing his way onto Bucky’s lap.

Bucky blinks at him, amused. “What?”

“It’s me,” Clint says, “I’m the worthy cause.”

“I think we all understood that, Clint,” Bruce says, adjusting his glasses. “But at least three of us in here have some sort of enhancement, and I don’t think it’s a good idea to test out how that would affect you.”

Clint pouts. “Aw, c’mon! For Science, Bruce! Don’t you wanna know if super-soldier blood will send me on a bender?”

“Seeing Legolas go on a blood bender would be amusing,” Tony snorts. 

Clint points at him. “See?”

“This is a bad idea,” Steve says. Clint ignores him. 

Bruce sighs. “I will admit to being curious,” he says softly. 

“Great! Just lock me in a room somewhere and send in a blood bag,” Clint grins. “Then observe! What could go wrong?”

Tony groans. “Don’t say that! You never say that!”

Clint shrugs apologetically. “My bad?”

“Your bad indeed,” Tony grumbles. He points a finger at Clint. “Fine. But this is gonna take a couple days to set up. No eating anyone ‘til then.”

“Spoilsport,” Clint pouts.

*

Sure enough, a few days later Tony calls Clint down to the level of the Tower that houses the cage he built for Hulk. “How ya feelin’, Count Chocula? We got a bunch of blood bags for you.”

“One blood bag, ah ah ah,” Clint deadpans. “You’re hilarious, Tones.”

Tony waves a hand. “I know, my jokes are a blessing,” he says dismissively. “Get in the thing and I’ll toss you a thing.”

“Eloquent,” snarks Clint, but he does as he’s told and walks into the cage. Tony tosses in a blood bag behind him and shuts the door. 

“I’ve got money riding on you, Barton,” comes his voice over the speakers. “Guess who that blood came from and I’ll buy you that hoverbike you’ve been annoying me about.”

Clint rolls his eyes and grabs the bag. After drinking, he smacks his lips thoughtfully. Metallic aftertaste. “That’s Tony,” he says, tossing the empty bag aside. “What else you got?”

“Try to pace yourself, Clint,” Tasha says over the speakers. “We don’t know what overeating will do to you.”

Clint flaps a hand, catching the bag Steve tosses through the door in his other hand. “Ah, I’ll be fine, Nat. Don’t worry.” He guesses the next two bags correctly - Nat’s and then, surprisingly, his own, which he doesn’t know how to feel about - before there’s a noticeable hesitation by Steve. 

“This is Bruce’s,” Steve says cautiously. “We don’t know how it’ll affect you, so-”

“Yeah, yeah, be careful, I know,” Clint says, making grabby hands. “Gimme.” There’s a noticeable difference between Bruce’s blood and Tony and Nat’s - it’s not unpleasant, really, just... Different. Clint tosses the bag aside and stretches.

“You feel any different?” Tony asks. 

Clint opens his mouth to say no, but then pauses and raises a finger. He can practically feel the tension in the room, and then - “Really, Clint?” Steve groans, amusement dancing across his face. The echoes of Clint’s burp bounce off the transparent walls of the cage, and he can hear snickers coming from the speakers.

Clint shrugs. “Better out than in, right?” He claps his hands. “Who’s next?”

Steve tosses another bag at him. “Bucky chose to opt out, so that’s my blood.”

Clint grins. “Yum, original super-soldier flavour. I still think I’m gonna prefer version 2.0, Steve.” He lifts the bag to his mouth and - 

*

Clint’s head hurts. Clint’s stomach hurts. Fuck, Clint’s _everything_ hurts. Even his goddamn pinkie toe fucking hurts, and Clint lost all feeling in that toe after a mission in Athens. Squinting, he sits up - and immediately falls out of the rafters in the gym, where he was apparently sleeping. He absolutely does not scream on his way down, but he does manage to land on his feet. “Ow?”

Rubbing his head, Clint sits down on the floor and groans, curling up into a ball as a wave of nausea hits him. “Why do I feel like I got run over by a tractor carrying horse shit and moonshine?”

“That would be the super-soldier serum,” a voice says quietly. It still feels like knives - stakes? - shooting into Clint’s ears, but he manages to open an eye enough to see Bucky leaning over him with a worried look on his face. “You had us pretty worried.”

“What happened?” 

Bucky sits down next to him and lets Clint crawl miserably into his lap. “You, uh... Kind of went on a bender? Steve’s blood must be like vampire crack or something, because you drained the whole bag in seconds and went straight for the source. Took Hulk to hold you back and even he couldn’t do it for long. He threw you in the gym and Tony locked it down, and you’ve been in here for three days.”

Clint listens to Bucky describe the past three days, his horror growing. “I didn’t hurt anyone, did I?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nah. We got you to the gym before you could. How are you feeling?”

“Like I just drank my way through all of the liquor Tony keeps in the Tower. Twice.” Clint groans pitifully, hiding his face in Bucky’s chest. “Please take me to our room,” he begs. “I need to sleep, and then I’m never doing that again.”

“Sure, sweetheart,” Bucky says, standing and picking Clint up like it’s nothing. “Let’s go.”

* * *

The worst thing about being a vampire, he figures, isn’t that he needs to drink blood to survive. It’s not that he no longer has a heartbeat so Bucky can’t listen to it to calm himself down after a panic attack in the middle of the night. It’s not even the fact that Clint can’t go out into the sun anymore.

No, the worst thing about being a vampire is that he’s not allowed to eat pizza. “Aw, c’mon,” Clint whines, pouting at Bucky. “Just a little?”

Bucky snorts and folds a piece of pizza in half. “Not a chance, sweetheart,” he says. “You know you’re not allowed solid foods for another month.” He shoves the piece of pizza into his mouth, purely to taunt Clint because he’s an asshole.

“But Bucky!”

“But Bucky nothing,” Bucky says firmly. “‘M not takin’ any chances with this or you, sweetheart, so if that old vamp we found in Norway says no solid foods for another month, then that means -”

“No solid foods for another month,” Clint sighs. He crosses his arms and pouts. “I miss pizza.”

“Apparently, pizza misses you too!” Tony says, bursting into the room holding a bouquet of flowers. 

Clint exchanges a look with Bucky. “What?”

Tony holds up a small card and clears his throat. “Dear Mr. Hawkeye - Mr. Hawkeye? Do they think you’re respectable or something?”

Bucky snatches the card from Tony’s hands and scans it, a smirk tugging at his lips when he’s done. “The pizza joint down the street thinks you must be sick or something because they haven’t gotten an order from you in a month and a half,” he explains, amusement dancing in his eyes. “Sent you this card, those flowers, and a twenty-dollar gift card to use when you’re feeling better.”

Tony bursts out laughing - although it’s really more of a wheeze with how hard he’s going - and even Clint is having trouble keeping the grin off his face. “It just means they care,” he says, grabbing the card from Bucky and reading it himself. “Well, it’s obvious what I have to do now.”

“And that would be?” Bucky asks, eyebrow raised.

“Order a pizza, of course!” Clint grins and dances his way across the kitchen. “Hey J-man, could you -”

“Ignore him, J,” Bucky interrupts, pulling Clint into his lap as he passes. “No pizza for him.”

“You’re mean,” Clint pouts. “Just one pizza? I won’t even order a large, promise.”

“No, Clint,” Bucky says, wrapping his arms firmly around Clint’s waist and not letting him go. “It’s only one month, sweetheart,” he says softly. “Surely you can last that long? For me?”

“Cheater,” Clint grumbles. “Fine,” he sighs, “I’ll try. For you.”

*

Clint lasts four days. Honestly, it’s longer than he thought he’d last - not wanting to disappoint Bucky probably has something to do with that. Regardless of his motivations, one of the reasons he lasted as long as he did is that he hasn’t been alone for longer than two minutes in the last few days. Clearly, Bucky knows that he’d try to get pizza at his first opportunity. 

But Bucky’s out with Steve, Tasha’s off on a mission, and Bruce and Tony are on a science binge in Tony’s lab, leaving Clint unsupervised. Never a good idea.

And honestly, Clint should have only lasted three and a half days. He first realized he was alone twelve hours ago, and he’s been using never before seen behind-the-scenes clips of Dog Cops to bribe himself into staying on the couch and not ordering pizza, but that only lasted until he realized he didn’t have to get up to order pizza and he could just ask Jarvis to do it for him.

That’s when he shoved a pillow in his mouth and sat on his hands. It worked for another eight hours, but he’s been squirming and distracted since then - and he _knows_ his stomach can’t growl anymore, but he could swear that it’s been doing exactly that for the last hour and a half.

Finally, it gets to be too much and he groans. “I’m a terrible vampire,” he sighs, shaking his head. “J, can you -”

“No, he can’t,” Bucky interrupts from behind him. 

Clint pouts. “Aw, sneaking, no,” he mutters, falling sideways on the couch and watching Bucky pull off his shoes.

“You know you’re not allowed pizza,” Bucky scolds as he hangs up his jacket.

“But I miss pizza,” Clint whines, giving Bucky his best puppy-dog eyes. “Are you sure?”

Bucky rolls his eyes as he walks over to Clint and sits beside him. “You make a terrible vampire,” he says softly, carding his hand through Clint’s hair. 

Clint wiggles his way into Bucky’s lap, pushing his head into Bucky’s hand. “I was just saying that!”

Bucky sighs. “You’re my shitty vampire, though. And I love you even though you want to eat pizza.”

Clint grins and sits up. “Aw, Bucky bear, I love you too. I’ll be your shitty vampire for as long as you’ll have me. How was your day with Steve?”

Bucky shrugs. “He was annoying as usual. Don’t think we’ll be able to find the vamp who bit you though. We’ve got no leads on who they were or where they went or even when they dosed your coffee.”

Clint hums, pushing closer to Bucky’s bulk. “That’s okay. Being a vamp’s not so bad. Besides,” he grins, “I’m immortal now, which means I have eternity to come up with new pranks to play on Tony!”

Bucky laughs at him and pulls him into a kiss, and Clint thinks to himself, _this isn’t so bad._ Plus, he’s only got to wait another month for pizza, and that’s not so long. Not if he’s got Bucky with him. “Dog Cops?” Bucky asks, pulling back and grinning up at him. 

“Dog Cops,” Clint agrees. Yeah. Not bad at all.

**Author's Note:**

> Clint wants me to tell you that he isn't a sucky vampire, thank you very much, his sucking skills are better now than they've ever been.
> 
> Bucky seconds that.


End file.
